Closed Lips, Open Heart
by whatifellinlovewith
Summary: "Walking into the precinct, her precinct, was a risk. Held far too much potential for pain even after he'd managed to worm his way into her last case. Had managed to remind himself of his heartbreak when he'd left the precinct without her by his side, fallen asleep with a cold pillow that still smelled of her right next to him." Season 8 AU, set post 8x03. For CastleFanficMonday.


_**Closed Lips, Open Heart**_

* * *

 _"To conceal anything from those to whom I am attached, is not in my nature.  
I can never close my lips where I have opened my heart."  
\- Charles Dickens_

* * *

Walking into the precinct, _her_ precinct, was a risk. Held far too much potential for pain even after he'd managed to worm his way into her last case. Had managed to remind himself of his heartbreak when he'd left the precinct without her by his side, fallen asleep with a cold pillow that still smelled of _her_ right next to him.

She'd asked for space, broken words and teary eyes begging him to allow her what she needed, to have room in his heart to forgive her when she was ready to return. And he hated himself for his mind's traitorous way of drawing terrible relief from the memory.

Images of last week flashed with it, of longing in her eyes that mirrored that which burned within his chest.

He hated them. Hated that he couldn't push the memories back when he faced the precinct door, a cup of coffee in each hand which tricked him into thinking, for a split second, that things were still okay.

They weren't.

If they were, he wouldn't be be haunted by the image of the door closing behind her as she left with a suitcase in her hand.

He swallowed back the crushing regret, pushed the door open with his shoulder like he'd done so many times before. A smile spread across his face, half forced, half born from budding hope at the prospect of seeing her once again. Of reminding her how good they are together, seeing that same spark of loving recognition that had flashed in her eyes last week for a second before she blinked it away.

Perhaps further exposure to the magic of their relationship would remind her of what she was missing during this period of separation she had demanded.

And perhaps it would simply result in another flash of something that resulted in nothing but further heartache.

It was a risk.

It was worth the risk.

The elevator doors closed behind him, allowed him a moment to tamper the race of nerves through his system and calm the painful stutter of his heart.

It _would_ be worth the risk, simply to have her by his side for what time he could muster. To, hopefully, see the bloom of a tentative smile cross her face. Another moment where she forgot about the separation she'd demanded and let affection flash in her eyes as brightly as ever.

Any moment that would allow him to forget, however briefly, that he woke up in their bed without her that morning. That he wife had left him without an explanation, with nothing but muttered hopes that he'd take her back, someday, and he could do nothing but hope she'd let him.

Soon.

He would make sure it was soon.

Taking one final deep breath, he rolled his shoulders to erase any lingering evidence of his unease, loosened his grip on the paper cups clutched in his hands. He would make it as easy as possible, as natural as it was before she'd smeared her lips to his that last time and carried a suitcase from their home.

Remind of what she was missing, of how desperately he was missing her.

And the elevator dinged as it reached the fourth floor, doors sliding open to reveal the homicide floor and only a handful of uniform officers turned to see who it was, most still mostly in the dark of the situation between Beckett and himself. As it should be, he supposed. He couldn't stand the pitying looks he got from those who knew, who tried to understand the struggle of watching your marriage fall apart without so much as an inkling as to why.

He offered L.T. a smile to counter the officer's pity as he walked by, stepping deeper into the bullpen, towards her office, only to stop in his tracks at the sight before him the moment he could hear the words come through the open door.

There was Kate, beautiful as ever, stealing his breath with the slight smile that curled at her lips.

But she was with…some man. Some _other_ man. A handsome man in a suit, with a briefcase in one hand and eyes locked on her, smiling wide, _too wide._

And their conversation filled the room, echoed off the walls, deafening and painful and _oh crap_ maybe the risk wasn't worth it.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Brown, but your client is not in a position to cut a deal of that magnitude," said Kate.

The man—Mr. Brown—leaned towards her. _Towards_ his wife. "Oh, surely a woman of your intellect knows he is," he countered. "Your case is hugely circumstantial, Captain Beckett, and my client has desirable information on a known criminal."

"Complimenting my intellect will get you nowhere."

"Oh?" breathed Mr. Brown, stepping _even closer_ to Kate and _why wasn't she pushing him away?_ "I think it could get me everywhere."

That was where he drew the line, stepping into the office loud enough for both Kate and Mr. Brown to notice his presence, to watch his wife's eyes go wide at the sight of him and Mr. Brown's brows furrow in confusion. He ignored the other man, walking towards her desk instead, slapping the coffee meant for her on the surface of her desk.

Kate reached down, curled her hand around it as though on instinct, eyes still locked on him as she lifted the cup to hold it in her hand instead.

"Castle?" she asked.

He stared at her, sneaking only a glance at Mr. Brown before turning back to his wife. "So, we're flirting with other people now?"

* * *

Oh. _Oh, Castle._

Her heart had dropped the moment she saw him, a mixture of longing and regret unfurling within her chest at the pain in his eyes and the brokenness presented to her once again. But at his words, it shattered, cut by the sharpness of his question, his _accusation_ , broken by the insecurity that lingered behind it.

Of course he was insecure. She'd _left_ him, and then—

She wanted to reach for him, reassure him with the coast of her hands over his shoulders, the frame of her palms at his jaw, the brush of her lips to his mouth. Wished she could muster the words to explain, as though everything she could come up with didn't reveal too much, didn't put him in danger.

Didn't put her at risk of losing him…forever.

But she couldn't do any of those things. Couldn't explain, not when his gaze was stealing her breath, pinning her broken heart to the cage of her ribs.

So she did the last thing she should have done. Turned to look at Caleb Brown instead.

Her hand waved aimlessly in the air as she spoke, a feeble attempt at nonchalance. "Do you mind?"

Brown shook his head, offering a weak smile even as he was already turning away. "Of course not. This seems like a personal–" He cut himself off, shook his head. "I'll discuss other options with my client."

And he left, the door closing behind him with a _click_ that seemed to resonate through the room for far too long afterwards. Stuttered through her chest, heavy with implication, with certainty. Locking her in the room with the man who gave her his heart to break, who had no idea she had broken hers in the process.

Who was staring at her with wide, gleaming eyes that pierced through her chest and had honesty threatening to spill from her lips.

"So this is where we are now?" he asked, words sharp, weighted with pain only to slice through her chest and steal her breath, leave her staring at him, gaping. "Flirt with other people?"

Oh. _Oh Rick._ He couldn't possibly think-

But he did. Oh, he so obviously did, his eyes brimming with hurt, gaze sharp with accusation. That she'd meant _any_ of what she said to Caleb Brown, that she only wanted one man, as though Rick didn't have her heart to hold and keep until she was ready to return to him.

Until-

She shook her head, reaching over to set her coffee mug on her desk before stepping towards him. Her fingers curled at his lapel, drew him closer even as his hands clenched into fists at his side. Her heart stuttered, hoping it was an attempt to keep himself from touching her, breaking at the possibility that their relationship had come to this.

Because of _her_.

"That's not what we're doing," she promised, voice cracking under the weight in her chest. "We're not. I was just-"

She was just trying to make sure Caleb Brown wouldn't catch onto her investigation. Trying to figure out if he had a blatant weakness they could use to crack the case, find LokSat. So she could go back to _him_ , to her husband, her home, her life and the love of it.

Trying to do everything she couldn't tell him about.

"I was just trying to get him to talk his client down," she mumbled.

He didn't believe her. It flashed bright in his eyes before his hands were curling at her hips, shoving her away so her back was pressed to the edge of her desk, a foot of space between them that was too little, _too much_. That she wanted so desperately to close with the wrap of her arms around his neck, the comforting press of her lips to his. That she _needed_ gone before she spilled her secrets into the air between them and risked his life as she did.

But he didn't step away, didn't press forward either, just anchored to the spot with the intensity of his gaze.

His anger. His pain. His _love._

"Kate, I need you to talk to me," he whispered, his hands tightening at her hips. "I can't stay in the dark when our marriage is at risk. I can't not know what I did to make you stop-"

 _Stop?_ She never-

"No," she interrupted, reaching for him because she couldn't _not_ touch him, couldn't keep herself from gripping at his shirt, pulling him closer even as he tried to stay too far away. "No I didn't- You didn't- Nothing _stopped_." She choked on the silence that followed, drowned in the tears that flooded her eyes, sent her vision swirling and heart beating itself against the cage of her ribs.

Because he was still staring at her, so intense, ripping through her, guilt flooding her system.

"Except our marriage," he muttered. "Except my ability to show you how much I love you."

She shook her head again, more violently this time, eyes squeezed closed. "No. No, never stop. I don't want you to stop, to feel like you can't-"

"Neither do I," he countered. "But you _left_ , Kate. And I don't even know why. I don't even- Don't I at least deserve to know _why?_ "

"Of course you do," she mumbled.

He did. Oh, how much he deserved that she couldn't give him. Couldn't-

"Then why, Kate?"

She _couldn't._

"Rick," she breathed, only to watch realization dawn across his features, anticipation of the response to come before it fell from her lips. "I can't-"

"Don't lie," he whispered to her, bumping his forehead against hers. "I don't want a lie, Kate. I want-"

"The truth."

He shakes her head, nose brushing hers as he does. "I just want you."

And then he kissed her.

* * *

She didn't resist, her hands curling tighter at his chest as he slanted his lips over hers. Her back arched under the the pressure of her desk against her hips, chest pressed to his, making his grip tighten, drawing her tighter into the cradle of his body.

The moan that escaped her burned through his body, so blissfully familiar, a far too distant memory.

It provided incentive to press her body harder against her desk, pin her there with the press of his body to hers. His hands drifted from her hips, up along her sides, slipping beneath the fabric of her blazer to keep the unsteady stutter of her ribs as she breathed with nothing but the thin fabric of her blouse between his palm and the warmth of her skin. Her breath hitched, lips parting against his, spine going still.

He froze, just as the world seemed to still, narrowed to the space between her lips and his. A split second when he stopped breathing, couldn't bear to open his eyes and risk seeing regret shining there.

But then her lips were on his again, tongue slicking into his mouth as another moan rattled from her chest, into his, sending his heart flying. Her hands drifted along his chest, up his neck, fingers twisting in the strands of hair at his nape. His hand fell to her ass, lifting her from the ground to set her down on the edge of her desk, so her legs could twine around his waist, force the fabric of her pencil skirt up, up, up as her hips ground against his.

He gasped, clutching at the outside of her thighs, feeling the burn of her skin beneath his palms for the first time in far too long.

It's only been a week. A week and a few days and he _needs_ her, burns for her now and longs for every moment when she should be at his side but isn't.

" _Kate._ "

She groaned, her head falling to rest against his shoulder, hands tightening in his hair. "We shouldn't," she mumbled. "We _can't_."

He swallowed thickly at that, only to feel her press a calming kiss to his neck, to send his body crashing into hers, arms curling tight at her waist to hold her against him. "I miss you," he mumbled, pressing the words against her hair. "I miss you and I don't-"

"You don't know why you have to," she finished for him, clutching at him in return, nails cutting into the skin at the base of the skull. "You should know why."

Finally, he made himself pull away, ignoring the pang of agony at the loss of her touch, the absence of her too reminiscent of that when he woke up that morning without her in their bed. But if she was going to tell him, he needed to look her in the eyes as she spoke, catch the flicker of honestly, the flare of gold in her irises when she was being sincere.

Her hands slipped hesitantly from where they had been on his neck, tugging at the hem of her skirt, combing through her disheveled curls instead. The smile he would normally see curling at her lips wasn't there, replaced with a small frown, her eyes too wide and gleaming with tears.

And, _oh_ , he wanted to draw her into his arms, ease the tension that squared her shoulders, had her hands curling too tightly around the edge of her desk.

"Caleb Brown is a criminal."

 _What?_

He blinked, watching her knuckles blanch with her grip on her desk, able to focus on only that until-

"The public defender you were- that was here?" he asked, gaze flicking to the door Mr. Brown had exited through only to return to see her shoulders sagging as she nodded. "In your current case?"

She shook her head at that, pushing herself to stand. "Not…our case," she said. "Nothing from the precinct."

"Not from the precinct?"

Another shake of her head, slight this time, chin dipping to press to her chest as her gaze locked on the floor. Her hands locked in front of her, twisting, wringing as the silence dragged on for a long time, _too long_ , before she spoke. "It's not…my case, but…" She paused, biting at her lip until he was sure she would draw blood. "It's…personal."

 _Personal?_ She had a personal case, one that had her this nervous, this torn up and she hadn't told him, had-

 _Oh._

She had run.

"Kate-"

Her hand landed on his arm, fingers coasting along the crook of his elbow. "We can't talk about it," she whispered, eyes darting to the bullpen, hidden only by drawn blinds. "Not here."

Not _here_.

It was still early in the day, too early, and yet he rested a hand over hers, curling his fingers into her palm, squeezing to ease the pain, the fear written so obviously across her face.

"Can we go somewhere?" he asked. "I know you have work but-"

"I'll take an early lunch," she interrupted. "I need…we need to talk."

They needed to talk.

They were going to talk.

And oh how he wanted to kiss her again.

* * *

She hesitated at the door to the loft when he pushed it open, stepped across the threshold. Her fingers curled around the doorframe, toes tracing the line where hallways faded into _home_. The home she had left, eyes burning with tears and chest aching, missing him too much already, too much more since a week had passed without coming home to him and letting herself sink into the warmth of his love.

It lingered, as obvious now as it had been during their last case, simmering beneath the surface of his hurt and brimming from the home they'd shared before she'd torn it all apart. Almost too much. Almost…

"Kate?" He stared, eyes drifting along her frame only for him to hold his hand out to her, outstretched and welcoming. "Come home."

The hesitation lingered only for a second, only as she watched his words draw a flicker of doubt to his eyes. A moment in which he seemed wonder if she would walk into the loft only to leave him once more.

But her secrets were about to spill from within her, close the emotional distance between them and she realized, with startling certainty as she settled her hand over his, the whether it closed the physical distance was entirely up to him. If he would be willing to take her back, if he still had room in her for his heart, just as she had hoped in her final moments before stepping from their home. The very home she finally returned to.

In the right direction this time. Towards him. Towards the life they shared and the possibilities of their future so long as they remained together.

Her hand locked in his, he led her through the living room, to his office, settling on one of the chairs in the corner of the room, hidden away behind bookshelves. She settled into the one opposite him, staring at the wall of books across the office, the meld of his knick knacks and hers that had drifted over as the lost became her home.

"Do you want to tell me, or do you want me to ask questions?" he asked, hand clenching around hers.

She didn't bother with an answer, opting to tell him instead. Sink into the agony of the story from the moment she'd gotten the phone call from Vikram and lied to Rick's face before leaving, to meeting Rita, both the first time and in the moments as she struggled to make her decision as to how to go about following LokSat.

"And she reminded me that…anyone who died because of my investigation…their blood would be on my hands," she choked out, staring at her own fingers as she twisted them, rather than turning to catch realization or disappointment wash across his features. "Your blood would have been…" Her hand swiped across her cheek, smearing a tear across her skin. "I couldn't be the reason you died. I couldn't. I-I c-"

He reached for her, _finally_ , his palm drifting along her back, easing the tension laced up her spine. Silent, he bumped his head against hers, pressing his forehead to her temple, gripping at her shoulder as he did so.

"You wouldn't- _I_ would have been there for you," he promised. "I would have…if you had told me you were falling back into the rabbithole, Kate, I would have been there for you, helped you. I would have investigated with you."

Her eyes fell closed against his words, so well known, exactly what she had feared, exactly what had driven her to slip from their home instead of letting him know because-

"You would have let me get you _killed_ , Rick." It was choked, caught on a sob as her hands finally raised to press against the burn of tears in her eyes, hide the evidence of her pain from him. "I couldn't ask you to do that."

In an instant he stood, hand falling from her back to grasp her wrist instead, draw her hand from her face and lift her to stand next to him. His fingers slid into hers, tangling their hands as the other reached for her face, wiping away the tears with far more grace than she could muster.

But she tried to the same for him, only managing to smudge the wetness that had fallen to his cheeks.

"I would walk into a tornado for you, Kate," he said, so very sincere that it broke her heart.

Or started to fuse it back together.

Or both.

She curled her hand at his neck, thumb drifting along the sharp angle of his jaw. "And I would die if I lost you."

* * *

Oh Kate. _Oh Kate._

He swept her into his arms, crushing her body to his, because how could he not when she was staring at him with teary eyes gleaming with so much hurt, so much remorse? His hand knotted in her hair, holding her close even as she whimpered into his shoulders, clutched at his back, twisted her fingers in the fabric of his shirt and held him just as close as he held her.

His other hand swept along her spine as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"And you think I wouldn't have felt the same if you had died, Kate?" he whispered.

She pressed herself deeper into him, as though she was scared he would let her go.

As though he could. After losing her for a week, finding out she was on a mission for justice, getting her to confess the truth into the silence of the loft. After getting her to return to their home, to their life together, to his embrace after a week of longing for the return of her presence in his life.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I was selfish. I didn't want to- I couldn't quit and I didn't want to lose you and I should have…thought it over more." There was a pause, as she lifted her head from his shoulder, released his shirt to smooth her hand across his cheek. "I should have known how much I'd miss you."

And then she was lifting onto her toes, dusting a soft kiss to his lips, hesitant, pulling away too soon even as his hands clenched at her hips and held her close. Until he leaned down, pressed his mouth more firmly to hers, stepping back to draw her with him as he dropped into the chair he had vacated only moments ago.

She came willingly, moaning into his mouth, mumbling against his lips.

"Thank you. Missed you," she paused, took a deep breath breath, fingers combing through his hair. "I love you."

He stole another kiss, pressed a second one to her cheek. "We still need to talk," he whispered against the shell of her ear. "But I love you too. So much."

And he kissed her again, because the risk of going to the precinct had been _so_ worth it.

* * *

 **For Lou, who's relatively fluffy, early season 5 prompt turned into this piece of season 8 angst. My apologies for changing the prompt so much, but I hope it was enjoyable anyway.**

 **As always, immense gratitude goes to Lindsey who promised me this doesn't suck, being there to find my mistakes and making this story better all around.**

 **And happy Castle Fanfic Monday to all!**


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